Son of Lor

A short novel I'm working on for fun. The story's getting along as I write. Hope you like it.

Chapter 1: Sign

 

Rain.

Do rain down and drench me in sweet surrender. Wash me of my sins and achievements, and lay me naked, wet, reborn, cold and oh-so-happily alive. For I have forgotten who I am. And I must find myself again.

 

For miles and miles, there was nothing but stretches of sand, and Feworo stood, awaiting eagerly the thunderclouds that the village shaman had foretold. A warrior, since birth, born to live under the stars and kill and protect and slaughter as non-hesitantly as help save, he felt nature at war with herself. Felt the mountains, rocks, trees grumble, shake and fight with an unseen force that was sweeping the land and threatening all life. And nature knew, and Feworo knew, this force wasn't anything new. Hidden for aeons in the folds of her green dresses, the Mother had forgotten about this power as ancient as her, and as deadly, and now she had to be ready. They all had to. The rains would be the first sign, the shaman had said. The first for many such to come. He'd mumbled something about death, and a new beginning, but all these made no sense to Feworo. He was a simple man; he lived by the three truths: death, life and pain. But as the first drops fell across his cheek, he felt himself wondering. And he felt scared and amazed.

 

For this was the first time in a thousand years, or perhaps more, that it had rained in the Stretches.